


Reunited (And It Feels So Good)

by eqyptiangold



Series: A Collection of Sterek One Shots [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Reunions, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eqyptiangold/pseuds/eqyptiangold
Summary: “What do you want for breakfast, Rem?”“Whipped cream,” Remi said seriously, dutifully following Scott to his high chair and letting the werewolf lift him into it.“If you eat all your fruit and a few carrots, you can have some whipped cream on your waffles,” Stiles bargained, as he looked through the groceries suspiciously. All of his favourites, that he usually didn’t buy unless they were on sale--he was, after all, a single father working on a forensics officer’s wage. “Scott, did the F-I-S-H die or something?” Stiles was careful to spell it out as to not worry Remi.“What? No, Fisher Price is fine. Why?” Scott looked alarmed at even the thought of their four-year-old fish dying. Relieved, Stiles breathed out a soft sigh.“What’s with all the good food, then?” While Scott spluttered, Stiles filled a plastic Dora bowl with fruit and carrots, and placed it in front of Remi. “Eat it all,” he warned, softening it with a gentle kiss to Remi’s forehead.By the time Scott managed an answer, Stiles had begun working on the instant pancake mix. He cracked eggs and put the batter together with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. “Derek is coming back,” Scott finally said.





	Reunited (And It Feels So Good)

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice carried through Stiles’ apartment, accompanied by the loud rustling of grocery bags. 

Stiles breathed in excitedly and whipped his head around to look out the door of Remington’s nursery. With his dad distracted, Remi took his chance to kick and squirm away from the diaper that was halfway on. “Hey, little man,” Stiles huffed, gently poking his son’s adorable little toddler nose. “Sit still.” Giggling, Remi wiggled until Stiles grabbed his feet and playfully threatened to eat his toes. 

“Daddy, no!” Remi called, laughing hard enough to make anyone’s heart melt. A big grin lit up his soft, chubby features, and light brown hair fell across his forehead. Stiles couldn’t control the fond smile that clung to his mouth, even as he finished changing his son’s diaper. As soon as the final plasticky edge was stuck down, Remi clambered to his feet and expectantly looked at Stiles to pick him up. “Breakfast!” he yelled excitedly. Clearly, Remi had mastered all the most important words early. 

“Let’s get you dressed first,” Stiles replied, rubbing his kid’s soft, silky hair. “You wanna wear your new shirt? It has a happy, little truck on it.” Remi made a scrunched up, unimpressed face. 

“Ariel,” he replied stubbornly. Ever since Stiles had showed Remi  _ The Little Mermaid _ with some of the pack, the toddler had been absolutely obsessed. Stiles felt like his laundry machine was running constantly just to wash the shirt Lydia had bought him, a pretty blue fabric with Ariel swimming across the chest. 

“Ariel is going to turn to dust in the wash if you keep wearing her,” Stiles retorted, scooping up Remi and propping him on his hip. “Uncle Scott bought you the new shirt,” he bargained. 

Remi looked thoughtful. Eventually, though, his expression hardened and he growled softly, having picked it up from the betas despite being completely human. “ _ Ariel _ ,” he repeated. 

“You can wear pajama pants if you wear Mr. Truck.” Hopefully, Stiles waited for Remi’s ruling. A variety of expressions passed over the toddler’s face, looking almost comical. Stiles resisted a laugh. 

“Fine,” Remi settled on eventually, and he supervised closely as his dad chose clothes. Once they were all selected, Stiles dressed his kid with limited tickling. Delightfully fuzzy Iron Man pajama pants paired with the yellow and blue top, and Remington was ready to face the world. “Breakfast!” he cheered, jumping into Stiles’ arms. 

“Oof,” Stiles grunted, receiving a small foot against his stomach. “Alright, little man,” he said, hefting Remi on his hip with limbs aimed carefully away from sensitive skin. “Make sure you thank Uncle Scott for the shirt, okay?” Stiles reminded as he carried his son down the stairs of his apartment. 

When they entered the kitchen, an overzealous Remi yelled, “Thank you, Uncle Scott!” Scott looked up from the fridge, where he was neatly packing away groceries. Stiles placed Remi on the floor, and the toddler barrelled across the room and jumped into Scott’s arms. Messily, he pressed a slobbery kiss against Scott’s cheek. Stiles had always hated kisses from his baby cousins, yet as soon as he’d had a son the kisses suddenly became something like an angel’s song. 

Gently, Scott tugged his nephew back by his shoulders until he could look at the shirt. “You’re welcome, kiddo. It looks good.” Remi grinned and preened. “What do you want for breakfast, Rem?” Scott asked, climbing up from where he was crouched down, and grabbing Remington’s hand. 

“Whipped cream,” Remi said seriously, dutifully following Scott to his high chair and letting the werewolf lift him into it. 

“If you eat all your fruit and a few carrots, you can have some whipped cream on your waffles,” Stiles bargained, as he looked through the remaining groceries suspiciously. All of his favourites, that he usually didn’t buy unless they were on sale--he was, after all, a single father working on a forensics officer’s wage. “Scott, did the F-I-S-H die or something?” Stiles was careful to spell it out as to not worry Remi. 

“What? No, Fisher Price is fine. Why?” Scott looked alarmed at even the thought of their four-year-old fish dying. Relieved, Stiles breathed out a soft sigh. 

“What’s with all the good food, then?” While Scott spluttered, Stiles filled a plastic Dora bowl with fruit and carrots, and placed it in front of Remi. “Eat it all,” he warned, softening it with a gentle kiss to Remi’s forehead. 

By the time Scott managed an answer, Stiles had begun working on the instant pancake mix. He cracked eggs and put the batter together with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. “Derek is coming back,” Scott finally said. 

Stiles dropped an egg, and cursed softly when the shell splintered into his batter. Luckily, Remi was too intently focused on glaring at his carrots to hear. “ _ What _ ?” he hissed, grabbing a spoon to scoop out the shell. “How do you know?” 

“Isaac told me,” Scott replied. “He was at the grocery store with Erica and Boyd. They’re throwing a welcome back party with the pack tonight at the house. Us and Rem are invited.” Remington glanced up, a half-eaten carrot clenched in his fist. 

“Party?” he echoed curiously. 

“Finish that before I cook your waffle and maybe you can have some chocolate chips,” Stiles responded. Remi returned his focus onto his carrots with renewed vigor. It allowed his dad to look back at Scott, displaying his alarm clearly on his face. “Did he- Derek- does he know about-” Stiles gestured at Remi wildly. 

“I don’t know,” Scott replied, taking the batter and plugging in the waffle iron. “I’m sure your dad is itching for a chance to babysit again, if you want a chance to talk to Derek before he meets him.” 

“I’m not going to hide my son from Derek,” Stiles replied, collapsing onto a chair at the table and dropping his head into his hands. “He can come to the party. The thing with Derek… it was just one kiss,” Stiles announced, setting his features and standing back up. 

“Yeah, and then Derek left town for three years.” 

“It’s not like he disappeared,” Stiles reminded. “He texted and Skyped and everything. I know he came to see you and the betas; Erica told me all about how Isaac creamed himself after the first pack cuddle after four months apart.” Scott flushed pink, and looked off to the side. “I’m fine,” Stiles decided. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

Scott looked skeptical, but he didn’t argue. 

Six hours later, Stiles found himself in his bedroom, staring at his closet. Somehow, even after three years, Derek was able to make him feel like a nervous teenager. Remi bounded into the room just as Stiles was about to try on his third plaid shirt. “Hey, little man,” Stiles greeted, bending down to tug him into a half-hug. “What’s up?” Remi babbled unintelligibly. “Oh, me too,” Stiles said easily, standing back up to swipe through his clothes for the nth time. “Which shirt, kiddo?” He brandished a purple plaid shirt that had shrunk just enough to cling to his muscles and make his shoulders look broad. “This one?” Next, Stiles held up his red hoodie and a plain black t-shirt. 

Remi managed to look bored and unimpressed. “Okay, geez,” Stiles said, snickering. “I’ll wear the flannel. Go see Uncle Scott for a minute, okay? Daddy has to change.” Remi nodded and cheerily bounced away. 

Quickly, Stiles pulled on his shirt along with a pair of dark jeans. He styled his hair, realizing with a start that Derek had never seen his longer hair in person. Last time they’d seen each other, Stiles had still been rocking the buzzcut. When Scott started yelling up the stairs, warning that they were going to be late, Stiles shoved his hand into his sock drawer and yanked out the first pair that he touched. The socks were hot pink, and Stiles couldn’t remember where or when he acquired them. 

“Daddy, hurry up!” Remi’s voice drifted up the stairs, pronunciation careful in a way that Stiles just knew that Scott was feeding him lines. 

“Yeah!” Scott called, mirth infecting his words. “Hurry up, Daddy.” Stiles rolled his eyes, even as a smile slid across his lips. He grabbed his phone from its precarious spot on the edge of his bed and jogged downstairs as quickly as he could without falling. 

“Are you both ready?” Stiles asked, voice quaking as he skidded onto the muddy rug next to the door. He crammed his feet into loose Converse and crouched down by Remi to help him with his own mini-Converse. Once the laces were tied in a neat bow, Stiles instinctively grabbed Scott’s feet and started shoving his Vans on. 

Scott waited until the shoes were tied before he spoke. “Stiles,” he said, laughing softly. 

“Baby Scott,” Remi quipped in his best high pitched baby voice, and Stiles cackled until his stomach hurt. Remington giggled along, while Scott grinned and shook his shoes experimentally. 

“They’re weirdly even,” he said thoughtfully, taking a few test steps. “Like, tied to the exact same tightness.”

Stiles snickered as his best friend extended a hand to help him up. “I always leave my shoes untied so they feel even,” he admitted, grabbing Remi’s tiny Spider-Man backpack and handing it to his kid to put on. “Remi got it from me, so. I learned how to tie them equally.” 

Stiles took one last look around to make sure he had everything. “You have Remi’s diaper bag?” he asked. Scott nodded, brandishing the dark blue bag. “Ready to go, little man?” Stiles asked, addressing his son. Remi babbled an affirmative. “Alright, dudes, let’s go.” 

* * *

Derek was really bad at surprise parties. The pack had tried, once, years prior for his birthday. Three hours after he was supposed to show up, cake mostly eaten and cheap balloons starting to deflate, Derek had texted the pack group chat:  _ not coming. Clean up the party by tomorrow.  _ Stiles had laughed hysterically at the time. He’d left the embarrassingly obvious gift he’d purchased for the man he was secretly lusting after, and left the betas to clean up. 

In short, the welcome back party was  _ not _ a surprise. Unfortunately, that meant Derek was sitting on the couch when Scott and Stiles walked in--accompanied by a toddler who smelled almost exactly like Stiles. 

The alpha was surrounded by his betas. Isaac straddled his lap like a koala, nose buried in his neck, and Erica was weaved around his side, with Boyd pressed against Derek from shoulder to knee. Even Peter was leaning against the back of the couch behind his nephew, forearms brushing his neck. Derek visibly tensed as soon as Remi stepped into the house. Slowly, he looked over until his gaze landed on the toddler. Stiles subtly pulled Remi closer by his hand, looking back at Derek and trying desperately not to show his nerves. Staring into those  _ eyes _ , Stiles quickly realized that he wasn’t ready for this. His heart beat rapidly and every bone in his body wanted to jump on the werewolf and kiss the air of him. 

“Come on, kiddo, let’s get your shoes off,” Stiles said quickly, spinning away from Derek’s intoxicating gaze. He crouched down and spent more time than necessary untying Remington’s shoes and tugging them off. 

While Stiles was bent down closer to Remi, he whispered as quietly as a toddler could manage, “Who’s that?” 

“That’s Derek,” Stiles replied, fully aware that the werewolf was probably listening. “You know how we talked about the pack?” Remi nodded, lifting a finger to his lips; Stiles and Scott had taught him from the beginning that werewolves were a secret. “He’s the alpha.” Softly, Remi gasped and babbled something vaguely coherent. “Yeah, kiddo,” Stiles hummed, scooping up Remi. “Let’s go meet him, okay? Remember your manners.” 

As Stiles walked towards the couch, Derek spoke up. “ _ Stiles _ ,” he choked out, eyes looking slightly wild. 

“This is Remington Stilinski,” Stiles replied, and his son waved adorably. “Remi, this is Derek.” 

“Alpha,” Remi said, beginning to wave with two hands. Derek looked like he’d run out of air; in the man’s presence, Stiles could sympathize. 

Thankfully, Peter chose that moment to step in. “Hey, Remington,” he greeted, standing up to walk over. “We bought you a shopping cart and some food for your kitchen. Do you wanna come see?” When Derek had left, he’d left his house in the hands of Peter and the betas, although everyone in the pack, humans included, had a key. The pack had converted a spare room into a room for Remi, unbeknownst to Derek. 

“Yeah!” Remi cheered, squirming in an attempt to get to Peter. Surprisingly, Peter turned out to be incredibly good with kids. Although Stiles probably wouldn’t trust Peter with much, he knew the werewolf would protect Remi, come hell or high water. 

As he lifted the toddler, Peter rubbed his hand over Stiles’ shoulder and down his bicep. At some point, he’d developed an odd fascination with Stiles--it wasn’t a crush, since Peter was just  _ not _ that type of person, but it was eerily similar. He just liked to…  _ pet _ Stiles a lot, carding through his hair and stroking his shoulders; Stiles had long since accepted it. 

Derek was looking increasingly nonplussed; Isaac had taken to nuzzling and snuffling his neck. 

“You have a kid?” the alpha said finally. 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. The dumb part of his brain that had been suppressed for years suddenly fired back with a vengeance in the presence of Derek, and Stiles couldn’t stop himself. “The mom isn’t in the picture. I’m a single dad.” Emphasis on single, his betraying brain supplied. Outwardly, Derek didn’t really react. However, something must have changed, if the way Isaac relaxed and stopped nosing at him signified anything. 

Scott dropped onto the couch next to Boyd and shoved his way into the pack huddle. Although having two alphas in a pack was nearly impossible, they were making it work for the moment. Stiles was too worried about Derek and Remi to worry about what would happen now that Derek was back. “Hey, Derek,” Scott greeted, making a somewhat successful attempt at breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

“Hey,” Derek replied, finally tearing his eyes away from Stiles and giving the younger man a chance to breathe. Gnawing at his lower lip, Stiles collapsed onto the loveseat opposite the werewolves. He suddenly became properly aware of the others in the room, now that they were no longer eclipsed by Derek. Had the alpha gotten more muscular? 

Jackson and Lydia were seated on their own loveseat, and Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you getting your wolf-y cuddle on?” he asked Jackson. The beta rolled his eyes. 

“He was all over Derek before you got here,” Lydia chimed in, smirking when her boyfriend scowled. “I was almost jealous.” Stiles grinned and let himself laugh softly, relaxing into the couch. 

“Hey, Kira,” Stiles added, smiling at the sight of her Avengers shirt. 

A small yell from the direction of Remi’s room interrupted her response. “Daddy!” he yelled excitedly, toddling out as fast as he could, hands wrapped around the handle of a plastic shopping cart. Peter followed behind, wry smile on his lips as he watched Remington run. “Look!” 

“Oh, my god,” Stiles muttered softly. The sight of his son’s utter excitement was enough that he melted over the blatant cuteness before he pouted at the sight of what must have been a hundred small, plastic food items filling the cart. He could only hope that Remi would be content to leave them here--assuming Derek wouldn’t try to kick them out. Stiles was almost positive that the betas wouldn’t allow it. 

Isaac finally managed to drag himself away from his alpha, although it was more like he clambered up with his knees on Derek’s stomach as he looked over at Remi. The entirety of the pack cooed softly, adoringly, as Remi strutted into the middle of the living room with his shopping cart. “Look at you!” Kira said excitedly. 

Grinning, Remi dug into his cart until he located a plastic donut. He handed it to Kira, and giggled ecstatically when she feigned biting into it with dramatic chewing noises. “Thank you, kiddo,” she said sweetly. 

“You’re welcome,” Remi replied, already turning around to run back to his cart. Next, he grabbed a handful of plastic fries that he handed out one by one to the pack, expectantly watching them as they all pretended to eat. Since Peter got him the shopping cart and food, he received a mini-cake and a juice box. When Peter theatrically pretended to eat, deserving raucous giggles from Remington, Stiles couldn’t tear his eyes away from Derek. The alpha watched with wide eyes, looking almost as if he’d seen a ghost--in a good way somehow. Stiles supposed he almost had; Derek probably hadn’t seen Peter interact with kids since before the fire. 

Lastly, once Remi was done “feeding” Peter, he wheeled his cart over to Stiles. Peter followed him, settling onto the loveseat next to Stiles and beginning to rub his shoulders. Remi was grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he dug through his plastic shopping cart, so Stiles didn’t smack Peter away. 

Derek was staring. Quietly, Peter mumbled into Stiles’ ear, “The sexual tension is unbearable. Please, just fuck my nephew and put us all out of our misery.” 

Stiles let out a scandalized yelp and smacked Peter’s shoulder. “Shut up, you creepy old man,” he retorted, though his words held no heat. Peter smirked. 

Derek said something to Isaac, and Peter snickered. He leaned even closer to Stiles and wrapped an arm around him, and Stiles raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What are you doing?” he muttered softly, speaking out of the corner of his mouth while continuing to entertain Remi. 

Peter kept getting closer until he was practically on Stiles’ lap, and Derek growled. It was a low, threatening noise that made all the betas tense up; even Remi was momentarily distracted from telling Stiles all about lettuce and donuts in toddler babble. “Speak your truth, Derek,” Peter said, smirking sarcastically. Derek started to reply and Peter gestured at Remi, mockingly whispering, “Young ears in the room.” 

Derek petulantly threw a pillow at his uncle, earning a childish laugh from Peter as he left the room. Stiles was confused. Lydia and Jackson were snickering and looking superior. Kira was trying to stifle her laughter in her sleeves. Scott was staring blankly between Derek and Stiles. Erica was laughing, Boyd had donned a small smirk, and Isaac was laughing into Derek’s neck. Derek himself was glaring at his uncle’s back and making a point not to look at Stiles. Remi, the angel that he was, was gently gnawing on various plastic food items as if he expected each one to taste different. 

“What?” Stiles asked, looking around at his pack in search of an explanation. At the same time, he pulled a plastic cucumber out of Remi’s mouth. 

“Welcome back, Derek!” Erica cheered, and she and Boyd stood up. She grabbed Isaac and pulled him off of the alpha while Boyd grabbed an incredibly confused looking Scott. Kira joined them, murmuring something to Scott as they left the room. Lydia managed to pull Jackson along despite his clear desire to stay and keep smirking condescendingly. All the while, Stiles looked around in absolute confusion. 

“What?” he repeated. This time, only Derek and Remi were around to hear. Neither of them replied. “Derek?” Stiles asked, feeling weak. He was emotionally drained from the whole experience. 

“Alpha,” Remi chimed in, unhelpful however adorable it may have been .

“What,” Derek replied flatly, looking deeply uncomfortable. Erica suddenly walked back into the room, tiptoeing theatrically. She scooped up Remi and tiptoed out of the room, backwards. 

Stiles finally stood up and joined Derek on the couch. “You left,” he said bluntly. Derek nodded, looking down at his hands as he fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans. “Right after we kissed.” Stiles knew it sounded desperate. He knew that, to Derek, the kiss probably meant nothing--but it had been three years of texting and very occasionally Skyping Derek, all while avoiding the topic. In the time that spent wondering about that fucking kiss, Stiles had impregnated a girl during a drunken one-night stand, and taken in the newborn when she showed absolutely no interest in him or Remi. He’d convinced his best friend to help him raise the baby. Stiles was done wondering about it. 

“Yeah,” Derek muttered, bowing his head and looking like he was ready to get scolded. 

“That’s it?” Stiles asked, slouching miserably. “ _ You _ kissed  _ me _ , Derek. What, was that your shitty, pity version of goodbye because I was stupidly, hopelessly in love with you? Because it sucked.” Stiles was acting angrier than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He was  _ hurt _ , goddammit. Stiles had  _ loved _ Derek, and for a moment he thought the werewolf loved him back--and then he’d woken up to find out that Derek had left. As it turned out, bottling up that pain only made it hurt worse now. 

“What?” Derek asked, suddenly looking up with a raw look in his eyes. Stiles glared. “You- me-  _ loved _ ?” 

Stiles scoffed and swiped furiously at his eyes when they tried to tear up. “You know I fucking love y- loved you,” he snapped, face boiling as he wrenched himself up and to his feet. “You don’t have to be such a  _ dick _ .” Stiles felt even more off-balance than usual as he stormed away, knee banging against the couch. He cursed softly. 

“Stiles- wait,” Derek stammered, catching up to Stiles in the hallway. Derek gently grabbed the smaller man’s wrist, and Stiles yanked away. He hated how nice Derek’s skin felt against his. “You love me?” Derek asked. 

“I said loved,” Stiles snapped immediately, defensively. Derek’s whole posture seemed to deflate. 

“Oh,” he mumbled, looking  _ crushed _ . “I panicked. I knew I was leaving with Cora but… I wanted you to tell me to stay,” Derek mumbled, staring at his shoes. “When you didn’t… I just assumed-” he broke off. 

“You thought I didn’t like you?” Stiles asked, unable to control the intensity in his voice. The big, badass alpha shied away from it. “ _ You _ liked  _ me _ ?” 

“Loved you,” Derek corrected, voice soft and mumbled. Stiles couldn’t tell whether he said  _ love _ or  _ loved _ . 

“Do you still?” Stiles whispered.

Derek practically pressed his chin into his neck as he looked down. “Yes,” he said, voice barely audible. 

Stiles couldn’t control himself when he leaped onto Derek, pulling his chin up to connect their lips. 


End file.
